


Lucius Julius Caesar

by Python07



Series: If Looks Could Kill [27]
Category: Forever (TV), The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Crack Crossover, Fluff, M/M, Richelieu is immortal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 16:02:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8898376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Python07/pseuds/Python07
Summary: Richelieu tells Treville about his first life.





	

They lay together, wrapped in the blanket and each other. They were both relaxed and sated. The silence was comfortable.

Richelieu had his eyes closed, enjoying the sleepy closeness, the warmth, and the sun on his face. He ran a lazy hand up and down Treville’s back. He kissed the top of Treville’s head.

Treville was half on top of Richelieu. He rested his head on Richelieu’s shoulder. He traced random patterns on Richelieu’s chest. “Armand,” he whispered.

“Yes?” Richelieu murmured.

“Are you awake?”

“For the moment”

Treville kissed Richelieu’s chest. “Can I ask you something?”

Richelieu yawned. “Go ahead.”

Treville put his head back down. “How old are you?” 

“I knew that was coming eventually,” Richelieu sighed but didn’t tense. “Are you sure you wish to know?”

Treville lifted his head. He didn’t stop caressing Richelieu’s skin. “Yes.”

“Be sure, Jean. It’s a lot to take in.”

“Tell me. I want to know,” Treville answered with quite assurance.

Richelieu opened his eyes to see Treville watching him curiously and without fear. He gave a small smile. “Very well. I was born Lucius Julius Caesar…” 

“Caesar,” Treville interrupted. His eyes flashed in excitement. “Like Julius Caesar.”

“Same family. Caesar was a branch of the Julian clan.” Richelieu smiled. It was bittersweet. “Not many remember that his first name was Gaius.”

Treville tilted his head to the side and studied Richelieu for a long moment. “You knew him.”

“We were cousins.”

Treville’s jaw dropped. “No.”

“I’m afraid so. We can come back to him later if you wish.” Richelieu took a deep breath. “If I may continue, I was born Lucius Julius Caesar, 653 years after the foundation of Rome, in the year of the sixth consulship of Gaius Marius and Lucius Valerius Flaccus.” 

“653 years,” Treville echoed. His hand stilled, resting over Richelieu’s heart. He shook his head helplessly.

“That’s how we reckoned time, we counted the years from the birth of our city. It was our way, just as the Egyptians measured time by the year of a pharaoh’s reign.” Richelieu ran a hand through Treville’s hair to cradle the back of his head. His free hand covered Treville’s on his chest. “I was born on the fourteenth day of Aprilis, one day after the Ides, during the Fordicidia.”

Treville’s brow furrowed. “Fordicidia?”

Richelieu smirked and pointedly looked down at them and their state of undress. “A fertility festival in honor of the Earth goddess Tellus Mater. You may have also have heard of her as Terra Mater or her Greek equivalent is Gaea.”

Treville flushed and laughed despite himself. “Why am I not surprised?”

Richelieu squeezed Treville’s hand. “I was the oldest son. My status was patrician and my rank senatorial.”

“Patrician?”

“Think of it as the aristocracy. The Senate, at least back then, came from almost exclusively our ranks.”

Treville rolled his eyes playfully. “Of course.”

Richelieu arched an eyebrow. “My family had a noble bloodline,” he conceded. “We traced our ancestry back to Aeneas, the last survivor of Troy, and the son of the goddess Venus.”

Treville grinned and teased, “That’s not pretentious at all.”

“We were far from the only ones to claim descent from a god,” Richelieu drawled back. “Every great king or general claimed a share of the divine. Who’s to say they were wrong?”

Treville frowned slightly. “It’s strange to hear you speak in such a way.”

“It didn’t fit my role as Cardinal to voice such thoughts.” Richelieu’s throat went dry. “But it’s still me, Jean.”

Treville smiled warmly and leaned down for a quick kiss. “I know,” he whispered against Richelieu’s lips. “Go on. I want to hear more.”

Richelieu stole another kiss. “Our bloodline didn’t alter the fact that we were poor. All we really had was the prestige of our name.”

Treville put his head back down on Richelieu’s shoulder. He threw an arm across Richelieu’s chest. “It’s hard to think of Caesars as being poor. They ruled the Roman Empire, didn’t they?”

Richelieu rubbed Treville’s back. “That came later. I was born a citizen of the Republic. The highest rank my father attained was praetor. After he died, his creditors took the house. We had to move into the Subura with cousin Aurelia and her children. She rented us an apartment in her insulae.”

Treville tilted his face towards Richelieu’s neck. “Subura?”

“It was one of the rougher neighborhoods in Rome. Think of the Court of Miracles, only on a much larger scale.”

Treville nuzzled the warm skin. “Really? I can’t imagine you living in those type of conditions.”

Richelieu tilted his head to the side to give Treville more room to maneuver. “Needs must. My mother did what was necessary to ensure her children were educated and fed. Comfort was secondary.”

Treville trailed his lips up Richelieu’s neck to his ear. He nipped the lobe. “Always what’s necessary.”

“Even when it hurts,” Richelieu hissed and buried a hand in Treville’s hair. “Mother was a Claudian in the strictest tradition. She was careful to always project herself as a proper Roman matron.”

Treville pulled back enough to see Richelieu’s face. One end of his mouth quirked up. “Did she ever remarry after your father died?”

“No. None of her suitors were ever good enough. When I became head of the family, I could’ve pressed the issue.” Richelieu smiled wryly. “But it wasn’t worth my hide.”

Treville chuckled. “A woman made out of stern stuff.”

“She had to be strong.” Richelieu stopped meeting Treville’s gaze. He swallowed and his voice was barely above a whisper. “Rome was not a place for the weak.”

Treville leaned forward to scatter kisses all over Richelieu’s face. “Let me make sure I have this correct. You were born on the fourteenth day of Aprilis, during a fertility festival, 653 years after the foundation of Rome.”

Richelieu cupped Treville’s cheek. “Yes.”

Treville nipped Richelieu’s bottom lip “When is that on our calendar?”

Richelieu hummed in thought. “Roughly one hundred years before the birth of Christ.”

Treville pulled back. His eyes got wide. “You’re older than Jesus.”

Richelieu shrugged. “Not by much.”

“One hundred years,” Treville protested. “That sounds like a lot to me.”

Richelieu rubbed the back of Treville’s neck. He smiled gently. “In the grand scheme of things, it’s really not.”

“You’re…” Treville tripped over his words. He leaned into Richelieu’s touch. “You’re 1600 years old.”

“Closer to 1700 actually.”

Treville blew out a long breath. “I…I don’t know how to think of that much time. I can’t wrap my head around it.”

Richelieu guided Treville’s head back down to his shoulder. He kept one hand on the back of Treville‘s neck. He wrapped his other arm around him. He kissed the side of Treville’s head. “That’s all right, Jean.”

“It’s fantastic.” 

“I know. You’re taking this a lot better than I expected.”

“I’m just glad you’re here.” Treville clutched Richelieu. “But I don’t know if I could have believed it if I didn’t see you die and come back from the grave.”

“I’m sorry about that. Sextus can be impatient.”

Treville growled. “How did he know about you?”

Richelieu chuckled. “Because he’s like me.”

Treville’s head shot up again. He bared his teeth. He tensed in Richelieu’s arms. “He’s…” he spluttered. “That insufferable bastard’s immortal, too.”

“There’s no need for this jealousy, Jean.”

Treville snorted and shifted uncomfortably. His face flushed. “I’m not jealous.”

Richelieu cupped the side of Treville’s face and guided him down for a kiss. He kept the kiss slow and languid until Treville melted against him. “You have nothing to worry about. He’s also my cousin,” he whispered against Treville’s lips.


End file.
